The Amulet of Pyralis
by Rivendell101
Summary: "You know what they say about people who play with fire, don't you?" he asks, turning Natsu's hand over. He reaches for the amulet blindly as he holds eye-contact with Natsu. The amulet is raised high into the air, dangling by it's chain. Natsu is bewitched. The Vendor's grin widens and he drops the necklace. "They get burned." The amulet collides with his palm, sealing his fate.
1. Prologue: Black Chains of Morgreth

**AN: I shouldn't be starting something new, but oh well! I apologize! Truly, I do! This is the beginning of my new Djinn/Jinn/Genie AU. I hope you enjoy it!**

**The Amulet of Pyralis**

**Prologue: Black Chains of Morgreth**

_The sun was blinding and the heat was all but unbearable as the sand swirled across the desert, stretching out for miles and miles until it was the only thing anyone could see. This was a barren wasteland. A land of fire. A dangerous place. This was her home. The sand and the sun were all she had known since the beginning of her time. It was home—had always been home. But it would not always be home. Times change. Bad things happen. So many bad things happened._

_ She grinned up at the woman standing in front of her, blonde hair blowing around in the wind, whipping around in front of her eyes. She didn't feel the chill brought on by the blowing wind, only the light brush of it against her skin—gentle at the moment, but she could tell that it was picking up. Fire Djinn feel no cold, only the searing heat of the flames they conjure. It is both a blessing and a curse—to feel one extreme but have no recollection of the other, to see only one side of a coin, but know of the other sides existence. It's like living only half a life._

_ The woman, her mother, smiled back gently, hand reaching out for hers. She peered curiously at her mother's open palm, seeing her holding out a necklace clasped between her fingers, glinting in the sunlight. She looked at it, blinking slowly at the plain, gold chain and the dark-red gem framed by intricate gold that flashed in the rays of the setting sun. The red sky made the gem looking even brighter than it should have been. And when the light moved it looked like fire dancing across her mother's palm in red and orange and fiery gold. She is no stranger to fire. She lives with it, lets it dance with her, and wields it when others cannot. Fire has always been her friend, and in that moment it was like she was gazing into the heart of a flame._

_ And she saw something beautiful there. Something magical and unlike anything she had ever seen before, and magic was nothing new to her._

_ She is not a stranger to the magic of the Djinn. It has been a part of her for as long as she can remember. Her mother and father both used the same magic, once upon a time. Many years before the present time. The fire Djinn were a proud clan. They lived amongst the sand serpents beneath the desert, which would rise up out of the sand, long necks twisting, teeth snapping, and giant wings creating sandstorms. What she wouldn't give to see one again. What she wouldn't give to see one of those magnificent beasts again. _

_ With lips pursed, she leaned closer to the gem, cocking her head to the side in confusion. It looked like the same gem that rested upon her mother's breast, yet a glance told her it was not the same stone. Her mother had hers, yes, but the second stone resting against her palm was one she had never seen before in her lifetime. Not her mother's, at least. Nor was it the one set in the ring her father wore, which was smaller and more of an orange color._

_ The woman leaned forward, hand still outstretched, her golden hair whipping around her face. Her long, colorful skirts blew with the wind, red and gold flickering like fire, the coins sown into the fabric clashing in the air, the sound ringing through her ears. A friendly smile lit up her face, brightening it and chasing away the shadows that crossed it, her eyes flashing gold in the light. "Mea Fiametta," the woman whispered, sliding the necklace into the smaller girl's palm, "you must never lose this." Her words were gentle, but her eyes were stern as she looked into the young girl's eyes. "You must promise me to never let anyone other than you carry this gem, do you understand?"_

_ She frowned up at the woman, not fully registering the panic in her wide eyes, nor the way the wind picked up violently, screaming shrilly. She had never heard the sky cry out like this before, as if it was in great pain._

_ "Mother?" she shouted over the wind, her free hand pushing her hair away from her face. "What is this?" Her fingers wrapped around the gem, causing it to dig into her palm harshly. "What do you mean?"_

_ "It is Pyralis. It is fire. It is a small piece of the desert's heart," she said slowly. Her mother crouched in front of her, gaze flicking to the north, where the howling wind blew from. "There are those who would seek to control you," she said, placing her hands on the young girl's shoulders. "But, Mea Fiametta, they cannot do so without this." She pointed to the gem in the girl's hand, then to the chain at her own throat. "The will of a Djinni is strong, we are a force to be reckoned with," she stated proudly. Her eyes flashed with something the girl could not place. "Remember that you serve no man."_

_ She nodded slowly, the fingers of her free hand going to her mother's wrist. "Why are you giving this to me?" Her mother smiled sadly, eyes welling with unshed tears. Her lips quivered and the smile became strained._

_ "Because I fear this will be the last time we ever meet, Fia." Her eyes snapped open, a gasp leaving her—her mother cut her off before she could speak. "The free reign of the Djinn is over," her mother told her gently. "They come for us now."_

_ And they did come. They came and they destroyed everything in their path, burning everything to the ground. It was chaos._

_ In the distance the wind screamed louder—no, not the wind. She looked to the north, noticing for the first time the people running and crying out, men on horses chasing them, swords raised high above their heads. She watched as Djinn fought back, children sent running ahead and men throwing themselves in front of the intruders. People were being ripped from their homes, dragged across the sand, and tossed to the ground before a man dressed in white. He raised his own sword above his head, but her mother jerked her around before he could bring it down._

_ It was not the wind that shrieked and cried out for help that would not come._

_ The sand was painted crimson, and it was not due to the setting sun. She had never seen so much blood before._

_ Her mother grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her into the air as the screaming grew louder. People began to run by them, so many people were sent running, trying to escape. "Jude," her mother screamed above the wind and shrieks from the Djinn campsite below. Layla whirled in circles, searching for her husband in the crowd of people running past. "Jude," she cried out again, turning in fast circles and clutching her daughter to her chest. __A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Layla wrenched herself from the grasp, shrieking._

_ "Layla," a voice called from besides her. Hands grasped her shoulders again, shaking her briefly. "Calm down, we need to go!" Her eyes snapped open, locking with her husband's._

_ "Jude," she breathed, wrapping an arm around him, the other still holding her daughter firmly against her. And she clung back to her mother, holding her just as tightly as her father hugged them both. Jude's arms went around Layla in return, pulling both of them flush against him, his fingers trailing up his wife's spine. He pulled away from them moments later._

_ "Layla, we need to go," he reminded her, wrapping his hand around hers, pulling her with him as they ran. And they ran and ran and ran. _

_ They did not make it._

_ She remembers clinging to her mother as they ran, hearing the screams of the Djinn that were caught, and tucking her face against her mother's chest as the sun faded from the sky. _

_ They were not fast enough. _

_ Her father was the first to fall, telling her mother to run as he stayed behind, hoping to hold them off for as long as he could, but there were so many of them. He had no chance. His fire could only burn for so long, and they snuffed it out like he was _nothing_._

_ And then her mother released her, telling her to run. And she did. She ran and did not see what became of her mother._

_ It was not long before she slipped in the sand, the jewel in her hand falling from her grasp, disappearing from her sight. She had no time to panic as a man rode up behind her, sword raised above his head. She cringed as it was brought down upon her, arms flying up to cover her face._

_ Everything went dark._

* * *

Gold eyes snap open, slitted pupils dilating, glowing cat-like in the darkness. Her senses come back to life for what feels like the first time in years. She frowns, grimly realizing that this _is_ the first time she's felt anything in years. And now, suddenly, she can see and hear and _feel_. She can _feel_ again. For the first time in years she can _feel_ again. Only, it is not a pleasant feeling. It is not pleasant at all. It _hurts_.

The ground and the chains around her wrist are covered in patches of ice. Usually, the ice would not bother her, yet, for some reason she cannot understand…

The ice is so cold that it burns her.

The cold has never bothered her before. Ice cannot harm a Djinni of fire, it can never come close, but this ice—this cold has been creeping into her skin for many months now—possibly many years. She cannot remember. It has been so long since the desert raids. Time had left her long ago. This ice has been pressed to her skin for a long time, freezing the blood in her veins and leaving a white-hot pain to course across her flesh. A fire Djinni cannot be harmed by the flame, yet this chill burns like no other. It should not be possible. Ice should not burn.

None of this should have happened. She shouldn't be here. No one should have been killed. She was never supposed to lose the amulet. Her parents never should have—a lot of things should never have happened.

She releases the breath from her lungs, watching as the white fog drifts into the darkness, disappearing from her sight in little wisps of smoke, reminding her again of the fire that she cannot use as of now.

She grits her teeth, snarling. Her flames being ripped from her hurts more than the sting of the ice. She misses the pleasant warmth and the smell of smoke and ash. She misses the light and the heat and the feeling of being strong it gave her. Ice has no scent, being nothing more than cold tendrils that strangle the warm heart. It is cold and unfeeling, dark and unpleasant.

She thinks they are wrong. Hell is not fire.

It is ice.

And the ice _burns_.

Her hands clench into fists, nails digging into smooth flesh, tearing the skin. Crimson slips from her skin, freezing in trails and standing stark against the dark ground. She waits for the wounds to close, hoping deep in her soul that she can still do that much.

And she bleeds.

She winces, shuddering. Her magic is weak, her power gone. She has been here too long, far too long. A Djinni is not meant to be locked in a cage, no matter what the others think. She is not meant to be _caged_.

She glances around the dark room, only able to see due to her Djinn heritage. She is caged. The walls are damp, frozen in places, the floor is stone, cool against her skin. An iron door, sits across the room from her, large and imposing. _Threatening_. Somewhere, far away from her, she can hear water dripping, the only sign of life left in this infernal place.

There were others once. There were others that would scream and cry and _beg_ as they were tortured. There were others that hold her hands when she was small, protecting her until she was taken away as well. There were others that gave up, handing over their stones—like the ones her mother and father would protect with their lives—and then they would disappear into the darkness. She never saw them again. There were others that fought back and started an uproar.

They are no more. _They were silenced._ They can never come home, though there is no home to go back to. Just a cage and death and the cold and dried blood staining the walls.

There was so much blood. Since _that_ night so long ago she has seen so much blood.

She does not remember much about the day everyone else ceased to breathe, only that there was so much screaming. There was so much screaming that she could not hear her own thoughts. And then there was cool steel pressed to her neck, followed by a whoosh of air as something rushed towards her. She should have died that day, but a hand had reached out, stopping the fast moving object inches from her throat.

And she remembers cruel eyes, laughter booming through her head. She couldn't move, but she could hear words. _"Leave this one,"_ a voice had whispered. _"She's of a 'igher level. Leave this one."_ And so they left her, and she has been alone ever since.

She looks down, taking in the torn and dirty fabric that was once red. Skirts that were once long like her mother's, are ripped, cut high on her thighs. Her shirt fairs no better, scraps barely covering her now, leaving her skin bare for all to see. Scars and dried blood cover her arms and legs, bruises pulse, and she begins to notice how hard it is for her to breathe. Everything hurts. Everything hurts so much, but it's almost like a dull ache. She's far too used to this pain. It's constant. Every time she starts to heal, they hurt her again, beating her until she can't move. And then they toss her around some more, just because they can. It's the same thing every time. She knows what they want, but they won't get it. She promised her mother…

She misses her mother more than anything. She misses the way her mother's skirts would blow in the wind and how the gold bracelets she wore would clink together softly. She misses the amulet her mother always wore, how it was always warm, smooth against her skin.

Her skin…

Her gaze trails to the chains around her wrists and she tugs against them harshly, pulling her arms as far apart as she can, wishing the chains would snap—shatter against the floor, but nothing happens. Cuffs of black iron are locked around her, connected by a thick chain. Her eyes trace the elaborate gold runes that run along the cuffs, a growl leaving her throat.

Black Chains of Morgreth.

She hisses, snarling at the chains. She had only heard about them once before. They have anti-magic properties. She doesn't quite understand how they work, just that they drain her of her power, make he tired all the time.

They keep her fire away.

With a scream, she rips her arms apart in a feeble attempt to break the black chains, but she only succeeds in making them bite further into her flesh. The raw skin around her wrists break open, blood trickles down her fingers, pooling on the ground before her.

_Hell is cold._

The runes flash, glowing in the dark. Her lips purse. It seems she has more magic left than she originally thought, if the runes are any indication of that. They glowed brightly when they were first forced around her arms, but the light had dimmed within time, disappearing completely several weeks ago. She thought her magic was gone forever, but it seems she was wrong. Her hands clench into fists as the light dies down again, plunging her back into darkness.

She never has liked the dark. She is not afraid of it, nor does she hate it, she is simply indifferent to it. It is there and it happens. She just does not care for it. Fire is bright, it drowns out the dark, but now the darkness has snuffed out the flames. No, she does not like the dark. Not at all.

Her eyes slip shut, eyes tilting back to rest against the wall behind her. Her legs stretch as best they can, but the process is slow. She has not moved in a long time, her limbs are stiff and any action can become painful quickly. Rocks dig into her bare legs, but she hardly notices. Everything already hurt, small pricks feel like nothing. Her hair tickles her arms, nearly bringing a smile to her face. The feather light touch reminds her of a life outside of this place.

She sighs through her nose, head leaning further against the wall, head tilting into a more comfortable position.

She does not like the dark, but she will embrace it.

Heavy footsteps pound against the ceiling above her, startling her. No one has been to this place for days. Her eyebrows knit together, a frown tugging at her lips. What could they possibly want from her? She knows nothing of what they seek. It is lost. She cannot find it, even if she wants to. And she does want to find, but not for them. Not for those who would use it to control her. Not for those who destroyed her home and slaughtered her family.

She will not help them. And because she will not help them she will rot in this cell until she dies. She hopes it does not take long. She does not fear death nor pain. They cannot hurt her more than they already have.

The footsteps become louder. Her eyes open slowly as she realizes they are moving towards the door. Her gaze slides the lock, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

The footsteps stop directly outside the door, as if debating whether or not to open it. Softer steps sound throughout the place, letting her know that there are more than just one of them in the room—if it is a room. She does not know what it is. A house. A jail. An underground cellar. It makes no difference to her. She is trapped. She cannot leave.

She only knows that it is cold and dark and her magic does not work. There is nothing else to know.

The door opens with a barely audible click, startling her and setting her on edge. Light floods into the room, blinding her. It has been so long since she has seen light, even if this is merely a shallow imitation of the desert sun's burning heat. This is a fake light, which only makes her heart yearn for fire more. The iron chains glow faintly, before dying out once again.

Heavy footsteps cross the distance between the door and her body—tucked into the corner of the wall in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. Invisible. She wants to disappear. Her eyes do not leave the ground as the man's steps echo softly, his boots scrapping across the ground slowly. The distance between them shortens slowly, as if he is toying with her.

She believes that is exactly what he wishes to do.

_"There are those who would seek to control you. They come for us now."_

Well, they came. And they took their power. And now the desert clan of Djinn is dead, slaughtered. They can never come back.

A deep chuckle breaks through her thoughts, but she still does not raise her head, keeping it bowed.

The man crouches before her, reaching his hands out for her. She does not move as his fingertips trail across her arms, curling around her shoulders. He leans closer, breath fanning across her face, and she shutters, skin crawling at the lack of distance between them.

If her magic was working he would not be alive.

"Little One," he says softly, voice like honey. She tastes poison on her tongue. "This can all be over," he tells her. "You just need to tell me where your heart is." Cold fingers stroke along her cheek, gentle.

She wants to scream, but does not know if her voice will work. It has been so long since she has spoken. Sometimes she tries to speak, but she finds no point when there is no one to talk to. It is pointless.

Her mouth opens slowly, lips trembling. "I—" he voice cracks terribly. She swallows thickly, eyes locked on the black chains. "I do not know what you mean," she tells him honestly. Her heart beats in her chest. If he wants it he needs only to rip it from her chest.

He sighs, fingers continuing to stroke her face. "Your heart," he repeats, one hand sliding to her chest. A single finger taps just above her heart. "The red jewel. The heart of the desert."

_"It is Pyralis. It is fire. It is a small piece of the desert's heart."_

A strangled gasp leaves her, her eyes widening. The hand on her cheek grips her chin painfully, jerking her head up and forcing her to look at him.

His eyes are cold, colder than the ground, and a snarl is spread across his face. "So you do know what I mean," he spits. He shoves away from her, only for his hand to fly back to her face, the force of the hit causing her head to snap to the side, a loud "crack!" sounding throughout the room. She watches as three other men enter the room, standing close to the door. The man before her stands suddenly, a hand reaching down and dragging her up as well.

Her legs give out beneath her, but she is slammed against the wall before she can fall, her legs dangling uselessly. A hand wraps around her throat, choking her. Her eyes widen as he drags her from the wall, only to slam her against it once more.

And then he does it again, her head slamming against the wall, her ears ringing. And then he does it a third time. And he keeps doing it until she cries out, tears streaming down her face.

It is not supposed to hurt. She is not supposed to feel anymore.

Her back hits the wall one final time, and he presses her against it as hard as he can, but he does loosen the death grip on her neck, allowing her to slip back to the floor. Her legs collapse beneath her as she gasps for breath, coughing and wheezing. Her hand flies to her throat, soothing the abused flesh with soft fingers. She glances up at him slowly, flinching at the dark look in his eyes.

He glares down at her, hatred in his eyes. "This is your fault, you do know that, don't you?" he asks. She says nothing. "This could all stop now," he says, crouching in front of her again. She shrinks back, pressing herself against the wall. Sharp rocks dig into her legs, harder than before. She ignores them. "You just need to tell me where it is."

She shakes her head, lips curving back in a snarl. "You will never find it," she snaps. A foot catches her in the ribs, sending her across the room. The men at the door laugh, joking to each other. A second kick catches her chin, knocking her to the side, her head hitting the ground hard, leaving her dizzy. Blood drips into her eyes and she lays still.

"Stupid bitch," he screams, another foot lashing out. She does nothing to stop it. "This is your fault!" The hits continue. At one point she is dragged off the floor, tossed to the other three. They grin down at her unkindly and she sees death in their eyes. "You serve me!"

She lets them do as they please. She cannot stop them. She has no reason to.

Her ribs crack after a particularly forceful kick that sends her tumbling across the damp room. The world stills for a moment, the chains around her arms glowing faintly in the dark. Her face is smashed against the floor, blood and ice sliding across her skin. Her eyes slip shut as she hears them walking over to her.

_"Remember that you serve no man."_

Her eyes snap open wide, pupils narrowing into slits. The Black Chains of Morgreth start to shine, blinding her as gold light floods her vision. The men in the room stumble back, hands shielding their eyes. She rises to her feet slowly, balancing on shaky legs.

Her head turns to them, eyes gold and bright. A snarl curves her lips back.

The men step back again, tripping over themselves. "W—what?" one of them stutters, crawling to the door.

Her arms fly apart, the black chain snapping in the middle, shards of iron flying across the room. Flames dance across her fingers. Wind whips what is left of her skirt around her legs, though no wind should be able to reach where she is.

"I serve no man," she snarls, voice seeming to echo through their heads. Her hands fly out to the sides, the wind pushing them back.

The building explodes.

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry! I shouldn't be writing anything new, but I had to do this! Please be sure to leave a review! All reviewers will receive a preview of the next chapter! Next update is for The Raven **


	2. Chapter One: Wishmonger

**AN: Here's chapter two :D Hope you enjoy it!**

**Rated for: Language and violence. Rating is subject to change in case of future graphic violence and/or adult situations.**

**Note: Vestadera is Desierto from the FT universe, all I did was change the name. Pergrande is also part of the FT universe.**

**The Amulet of Pyralis**

**Chapter One: Wishmonger**

The heat is practically unbearable as it surrounds Natsu, suffocating him. The sun is high in the sky, burning bright. The wind picks up, tossing sand around near his feet. Natsu frowns, looking up, a hand raising to shield his eyes from the sun, and then his lips purse, twisting in a snarl. He really hopes he makes it to a town before the next sandstorm hits.

Reaching up, he tugs the white cloth covering his head further over his eyes. He's beginning to regret his choice in clothing. While his dark pants, white shirt, and boots pose no issue, his long, dark, sleeveless jacket certainly does. He feels like he's going to melt.

As if mocking him for his poor choices, the wind howls again, sand being tossed into his face and his jacket whipping around his calves violently. "Dammit!" he spits, yanking the cloth further over his eyes. "Stupid sand." He briefly contemplates kicking said sand, but forgoes the idea once he realizes it would only cause more sand to hit him. He sighs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before cursing when he remembers the scarf covering his head.

A low yowl sounds from below him, and something heavy hits his thigh, needle-like claws digging into his skin through his pants. Natsu curses, flinching and glaring down at the creature at his feet. The irate black cat practically glares up at him with crystal-blue eyes, tail swishing back and forth angrily. The cat hisses again, teeth bared. Natsu glares at the thing. It's simply huge, reaching up past his knee, nearly two feet tall and five feet long. That's not even including the wicked-long tail the damn cat has. He had no idea that the deserts of Vestadera would have such giant creatures. Sometimes he forgets that this place is known as the "Land of Magic."

He shakes his head, swatting at it. "Damn Sand Cat!" he growls under his breath, glaring when the cat hisses again. He doesn't even know why the stupid thing is here, obviously it doesn't like him much.

Two days into his journey he woke up the giant cat sitting on his chest, snarling at him. If he had been able to breathe he would have screamed, but as it was, _there was a giant cat sitting on his chest_. His weapon was too far away for him to grab, and every time he tried to move, the cat would hiss and dig its claws into him.

Natsu winces, rubbing at his covered chest while glaring at the cat. His chest no longer hurts, but he still hasn't forgiven the cat for trying to kill him in the middle of the night. He glares harder. It pointedly ignores him, licking its paw and rubbing at its ear. His lips curves back in disgust. The cat had sniffed at him for several minutes before finally jumping off him, but it has yet to leave his side since.

To say that he's confused is an understatement.

The cat has, sort of… been helping him. Kind of. The cat swats at him and start to get antsy and then usually something really, really good happens, or something really, really bad happens. He isn't sure if the cat is a blessing or a curse.

He frowns down at the thing, but its not looking at him anymore, its gaze is directed behind him, from where he came from, and its hair is standing on end, eyes narrowed into slits. He glances behind him, frowning, but seeing nothing there. He turns back to the cat, lips still turned down.

"You're kind of an idiot, aren't you?" Natsu mumbles under his breath. The cat's head whips around, an agitated hiss coming from the cat. "Yeah, yeah." He waves the cat off. "Don't be such a grump, Happy." He calls the cat "Happy," ironically of course, because the cat hates him. He wouldn't call the thing particularly happy.

Happy sniffs at him in distaste, then stands and turns his back to the male, walking ahead of him.

Natsu rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! Don't be like that, Happy!" The cat ignores him, and with a shake of the head he follows the less than friendly feline. His eyes stay trained on the cat's back, brow raised in wonder. How the thing doesn't die from heatstroke is beyond him. Then again… He glances down, tugging at his dark coat with a grimace. He's not exactly one to talk.

He isn't sure how long they keep walking, minutes—hours even—he lost track of the time. It all just seems to bleed together. He's not paying attention, just following the black sand cat in front of him.

That is, until the big cat stops, freezing in place. Happy's hackles raise, hair standing on end, and low, agitated sound leaves the back of his throat. Natsu frowns at the cat, head tilting in curiosity and confusion, but then he sees it too.

Farther out, the sand is rippling, rising and falling as if it's alive and breathing. And it's moving closer. "Something's moving," he whispers, hand dipping beneath his jacket to grasp the hilt of one of two scimitars attached to the belt at his hip. Happy growls, walking backwards until he's directly in front of the man. Natsu holds his breath, fingers tightening around his weapon.

The sand shifts and then he sees it.

A great, red eye, pupil slit like a snakes.

And it's looking straight at him.

Hell breaks loose. Everything happens so fast, but to him it feels like minutes pass. He can feel his pulse pounding through his head, drowning out all other noise. The breath slams from his lungs at the same time the creature turns towards him, sand flying through the air. Happy hisses. He reaches down to quiet the cat with his free hand. The scimitar is ripped from it's sheath.

The desert explodes in a cloud of sand.

A long neck rises from beneath the earth, sand spilling over scales, rippling down the giant creatures back. His first thought is "snake," but the skull isn't flat enough, and a whisker grows from each side of the dragons maw, shorter, thinner ones grow below the larger one, the same sandy color as the rest of the creature. Large deer-like horns grow from the creature's head, fins protruding from its back.

It looks like a snake, but then he sees the legs, still hidden by the whirling sand. A dragon, he decides. This creature is a dragon like the ones from the East, long, slim snake-like bodies, unlike the bulky builds of the legends of his homeland Fiore. The dragon rises higher, and then wings he hadn't noticed before spring from its back, sending sand flying everywhere.

And Natsu just stands there, mouth open in awe. The wings disappear, like they were never really there to begin with. He blinks and suddenly the dragon is racing towards him, flying across the desert. The sword is raised in front of him as he braces himself, eyes slamming shut as dust assaults his senses.

Nothing happens.

His eyes snap open, searching the area, but there's nothing there. He sighs, body relaxing. At his side, Happy is looking up at him, head tilted to the side. All traces of the cat's earlier ire are gone. Happy blinks up at him slowly and he begins to think the heat is getting to him.

He shakes his head slowly, slipping his sword back into its place under his jacket. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?" he asks the cat quietly. Happy walks away, tail flicking behind him. Natsu sighs, shaking his head as he follows the cat. "Well, that wasn't a 'no.' "

And then time bleeds again as he loses himself to his thoughts, a frown settling on his face. He could have sworn that the dragon was real, but Happy isn't acting like anything happened. Besides dragons don't exist anymore. No one has seen them for years. It was probably just the heat getting to him. It was bound to happen at some point.

Natsu purses his lips, a frown pulling at his mouth. Hopefully he can find a town soon. Being lost in the desert isn't as much fun as he thought it would be. Actually, he never thought it would be much fun. Being lost wasn't on his to-do list. But here he is! Wherever "here" is.

He's paying so little attention that he never notices Happy stop right in front of him, causing him to nearly trip and face plant into the sand. He catches himself with his hands, jumping back to his feet. That could have been embarrassing. Hopefully no one was watching.

"Stupid cat," he grumbles, glaring when Happy shoots him a smug look. Well, as smug of a look as a cat can give. "You just love causing me problems, don't you?" The cat sniffs, turning away from him. Natsu rolls his eyes, looking around. "Well," he says. "It looks like we found a town."

At least, that's what he's assuming, judging by the large wall in front of him, and behind that, decent sized clay buildings and people running across them. Clotheslines are strung up between the buildings, colorful cloths hanging from them.

He smiles, unable to hold back the joy flooding though him. He made it. He actually made it. He slowly enters the village, fingers trailing along the wall beside him as he slips under the arched entryway. The sight is simply breathtaking, but maybe that's because all he's seen for the past few weeks is sand and the stupid cat that's been following him around. And speaking of cats, he glances down to say something to Happy, but the cat is already walking away, slipping into the shadows of the nearby buildings.

Natsu scoffs, crossing his arms. "Fine," he says, miffed. "Be that way. I never liked you anyway." Admittedly, he's a little stung. Happy has been his companion throughout his little journey. To watch the cat leave him so easily is a little disheartening. Sniffing in contempt, he turns away, continuing through the bazaar without looking back.

He pushes back the cloth covering his face, letting the white scarf bunch around his neck. He raises a hand, ruffling his wild, pink hair. A few passerby's send him odd looks, but he ignores them, too busy looking around at his surroundings. A grin spreads across his face, a thrill running up his back.

"This is amazing," he murmurs, eyes flitting from one thing to the next. There are so many new people, all dressed in white and various bright colors, smiles on their faces, but under that…

His bright grin dims, but only slightly. He can feel a heaviness in the air, like something's weighing down on the people here. He can see it in their eyes. He wonders if they can see it in his eyes too. He wonders if they can tell that he ran away, and if they can tell why he ran.

He figures they can't.

They wouldn't be looking him in the eyes if they could.

He averts his gaze from the curious eyes around him, looking instead at the bright shops lining the bazaar, men at stall selling fabrics and food and other things that he can't even recognize. Everything about this place is so different from what he's used to. Not in a bad way, though. It's a good different—a good change. He's needed a change for a long time now. Ever since—

Natsu shakes the thoughts away, shifting his jacket to further cover the scimitars at his hip. He doubts that the local authorities would take kindly to a stranger gallivanting around with weapons. Not that he's gallivanting. He wrinkles his nose in distaste. He doesn't gallivant. That word shouldn't even be a part of his vocabulary. An amused snort leaves him as he shakes his head. It must have been something he picked up during one of Old Lady Belno's speeches.

She was always lecturing him about one thing or another. Telling him to stop messing around and "gallivanting all over town." He doesn't gallivant though. That would be weird.

He wonders what ever happened to Belno. Last he saw she was sick and in the hospital. He hopes she's doing better. It would be a shame if she wasn't okay. She might be a bit of a harpy sometimes, but he doesn't wish any ill will upon her. She can be nice, in her own way.

His thought process is shattered when he slams into someone—having not been paying attention to where he was walking. The force sends him reeling backwards, stumbling over his feet, and causes the other person—_a girl_, he decides, judging by their small stature. He's proven correct when her headscarf, which is very much like his, falls back, slipping off her face. Her blonde hair spills everywhere and amber eyes widen in shock. Green eyes take her in, roving from her face down to her torso. The light cloak she's wearing has fallen open, revealing pale skin and a flash of red and gold before she yanks the white fabric back around her body, shielding her from his gaze. The girl jerks down around her face, shifting her legs beneath her to stand.

His eyes widen, a blush blooming across his face when he realizes he was just staring. "I'm so sorry!" He reaches down to help her—it's only fair, considering he was the one who knocked her down and then stared at her unabashedly. His fingers skim her shoulder, but she doges his hands, flinching away as if he's burned her. Natsu backs away immediately, hands up in a placating gesture. Her gaze rips from his, head bowed. He feels like he can't breathe. She ignores his apology, hoisting herself to her feet. He frowns, noticing that her feet are bare—which can't be comfortable against the hot sand and equally scalding roads. His frown only deepens when she skirts around him, careful not to touch him. He whirls on his heel once she passes him. "Hey wait—"

His breath catches in his throat, heart skipping a beat.

She's gone.

He freezes in the middle of the street, eyes snapping open wide, hand still outstretched to stop her from leaving so he could apologize again. People continue to pass by him, shouldering him out of the way, oblivious to his distress. She just… disappeared. An elbow catches his side and he flinches, grimacing as he notices how busy the bazaar is all of a sudden.

He glances up, biting his lip as he squints at the sky. If he had to guess, he would say it's about two in the afternoon. It's no wonder the bazaar is so busy.

"Oi! Don't just stand there, Boy! Get out of the way!"

His head snaps around, eyes meeting the gaze of an angry man holding the lead of a camel pulling a large cart. The man sneers at him, eyes dark, his grip on the lead tightening. Natsu apologizes quietly, ducking his head in apology as he sidesteps out of the way. The man rolls his eyes, but the ire dims.

Natsu watches the man walk away and shoulders his bag, continuing in the direction he was headed earlier.

* * *

The fire crackles in front of him, blazing red and gold and orange in the darkness of the night. The air is cool, something he learned quickly during his journey. Though the desert burned with sweltering heat during the day, a coldness settles during the night. The flames rise higher, flickering and casting shadows on the ground and the faces of the people around him. Laughter and music echo through the air, breaking the stillness that had settled over him. Women and several men dance around the fire in time with the upbeat music created from drums and flutes. Red and gold fabric flashes, reflecting the firelight. A grin inches onto his face and he run his fingers through his pink hair, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

They look like fire.

A laugh leaves him as a little girl drags who he assumes is her older brother into the mess of dancing people. The boy—maybe thirteen at the most—makes a face, but spins his sister around regardless.

He's too busy watching them to notice the man slip into the spot beside him. It's only when he clears his throat that the younger male notices.

The man looks to be tall, muscles defined beneath his white shirt. Light brown, shoulder-length hair is pushed back on his head, an easygoing grin on his face. "Gildarts," he says, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He stares at it for a moment, biting his cheek. Finally, he takes the offered hand. "Natsu," he replies, nodding to the older male. Gildarts gives him a toothy grin and pats him on the back so hard that Natsu jerks forward, wincing a little. Way to knock the wind right out of him. His bangs fall into his eyes again and he pushes them back, huffing under his breath. He's gotten a few odd looks because of the color, but it doesn't bother him much. He's used to it and he's seen stranger colors.

"Nice to meet you, Natsu!" Gildarts says cheerfully, releasing his hand. Silence blankets them, Natsu turning back to the fire and Gildarts doing the same. Natsu is more than a little confused with the man's friendliness. Not that the people of Nuria—the village he found himself in—aren't welcoming, but something about this man seems… off. He doesn't look like he's from here. A foreigner, just like him.

Natsu also doesn't understand why the man came up to him. He wasn't doing anything worth noting.

"So what are you looking for?"

Natsu's head snaps around, eyes locking with Gildarts' "Excuse me?" he snaps, eyes narrowing. He's half way to leaving right now. This man doesn't know him, but he thinks he has the right to ask him personal questions. Natsu's lip curls back, but Gildarts doesn't seem to notice.

"What are you looking for?" he repeats, staring at him. Natsu's breath catches in his throat, unease flooding through him, twisting his stomach into knots, though he doesn't know why.

He swallows thickly. "What makes you think I'm looking for something?" he hisses, glaring. Natsu doesn't know why he's acting so defensive all of a sudden, but something about the way Gildarts said it makes him angry. He isn't looking for anything.

Gildarts throws his head back, laughter booming through the air. No one pays them any attention. "There are only two reasons people come to the desert, Boy." He smiles, but Natsu can see something dark in his eyes, something sad that's weighing at his heart. "To lose themselves, or to find themselves again." Natsu's expression softens and he looks away. "Which are you trying to do?" he asks.

"I…" Natsu stops, lips turning down in a frown. He knows what he's trying to do; well, he thought he did. He doesn't want to think about it though. Not yet. "Why are you here?" he questions, trying to steer the conversation away from him.

Gildarts chuckles, the darkness in his eyes growing. "I came here to lose myself," he admits softly. "I hated the person I had become. I was a terrible husband and father. My wife left me and I lost contact with them for a long time." He smiles, albeit slightly. "I recently regained contact with my daughter." He shuts his eyes, sighing heavily. "I came here to die, but I ended up finding myself again."

Natsu stares, open-mouthed. "I—" he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply. "I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

Gildarts reaches out, fingers wrapping around his shoulder, squeezing the joint. "You might think you're lost now, but that doesn't mean you can't be found." Not knowing what to say, Natsu nods slowly, taking in the words.

He does want to find himself again. He never meant to lose himself in the first place, but here he is.

His gaze snaps back to Gildarts when the man speaks once more. "So where are you from anyway, Kid?"

Natsu frowns. "I'm not a kid!" he snaps, crossing his arms. "I'm nineteen," he grumbles. Gildarts shoots him a dubious look, grinning. He huffs. "I'm from Fiore. A small town called Magnolia." Natsu smiles fondly at the mention of his hometown, but it dims when he remembers the people he left behind.

Gildarts looks shocked. "No kidding?" He laughs. "I had guessed Fioren, but I didn't expect Magnolia." He ruffles Natsu's hair roughly. "Small world."

Natsu bats his hands away. "Wait, you too?" The other man nods, turning away with a grin. Natsu laughs under his breath, feeling less alone than he has for the past few days—ever since Happy left him. A frown pulls down at his lips. He wonders what happened to that cat. Maybe he should go looking for him.

Natsu looks down, something Gildarts said earlier nagging at him. "Hey, Gildarts?" he ask hesitantly. The other man hums to show he's listening, but says nothing. Natsu can't bring himself to face the man. "What did you mean earlier? When you asked if I was looking for something." It's silent between them for a long time, and Natsu feels foolish for asking. Gildarts had already explained this to him, but he still isn't exactly sure what the other man meant.

Natsu coughs awkwardly, rising to his feet and turning away from the man. He should probably head back to the room he's renting. It's late and he has a busy day tomorrow.

"Are you looking for yourself, or the means to and end?" Natsu stills, waiting. The fire roars in front of him, crackling and burning. Embers fly into the air as a log is tossed on the dwindling pile, the flames surging upwards. He stares into the fire, nearly reeling back when he thinks he sees eyes staring back at him. He blinks, breath caught in his throat.

There's nothing there.

He shakes his head, cursing lightly under his breath. He thought he was done seeing things. obviously it wasn't the heat this time. A frown pulls at his lips. It must have been a trick of the light. There's nothing else it could have been. It's just the light.

That's been happening a lot since he thought he saw the dragon in the desert. He keeps seeing eyes everywhere, like something's watching him.

Like something's coming.

Natsu shakes the thought away, his skin crawling at the thought. He starts to walk away, nearly missing Gildarts' last words. But he _doesn't_ miss them and they make his blood run cold, heart skipping a beat. He briefly considers turning back, but he doesn't have the courage to look at Gildarts face after what he said. The words echo through his head, throat tightening. It feels like something's squeezing his heart. He hurries away, shaking his head.

Maybe he just heard Gildarts wrong. Maybe it was a trick of the mind, just like the eyes. It's nothing to worry about. He has nothing to worry about. His nose wrinkles, hands tightening into fists as he walks through the silent bazaar, skin crawling.

It's too quiet. He hates how quiet it is.

_ "Because you'll find both here."_

* * *

Natsu sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He slides his newly bought knife into his belt, eyes tracing the light designs covering the hilt.

The Vendor before him clears his throat, smiling at him. Natsu sends a smile back, giving the man a nod. He's not entirely sure what drew him to this stall. All he can see are trinkets and otherwise useless objects. Nothing of importance to him. Natsu purses his lips, gaze trailing over a large rug curled up in the back. He snorts.

"So how was your journey through the desert?" the Vendor asks, eyes on Natsu's pack. "I imagine it wasn't as fun as it sounds." Natsu snorts, barking out a laugh.

No it wasn't much fun at all. "It was hot and dry and a sand cat started following me around." He still has to see if he can find Happy. He tried looking for him after his talk with Gildarts, but that was two days ago.

The Vendor frowns. "A sand cat?" He shakes his head slowly, pulling out a cloth to clean a broach sitting in front of him. "That's odd. Normally they don't like people." He quirks a brow at Natsu. "Are you an animal person?"

"Not that I know of."

The Vendor makes a low sound, eyebrows knitting together. He glances at Natsu again. "Something's troubling you," he says quietly. "Something else."

Natsu nods, deciding to get it off his chest. "On my way here I thought—" he coughs awkwardly, cutting himself off. "I thought I saw a dragon in the sand. I thought it attacked me, but when I opened my eyes there was nothing there." He meets the Vendor's eyes. "Could it have been real?"

The Vendor shakes his head. "Impossible," he replies. "The dragons disappeared from Vestadera nearly twelve years ago, when the Djinn were slaughtered by men from Pergrande." The Vender leans in a bit closer. "Some say the dragons were so close to the Djinn that they were heartbroken when they died. They retreated to the ends of the earth and won't come back."

Natsu frowns. "Djinn?"

The Vendor smiles at him. "I believe you would call them 'Genie.' " Natsu nods, recognizing the word. "Mystical creatures bound to the mortal world through objects such as lamps." He nods to an old, worn oil lamp sitting on the stall counter. "And whoever holds one of those objects controls the Djinni inside, binding them together. They're powerful magic users, some are even said to control the elements, others the bridge between life and death." The Vendor stares at Natsu, never breaking eye contact. "They grant wishes, you know." His grin widens. "Three wishes to be exact. Anything you could ever want." He leans in closer. "They have the power to change anything for you."

Natsu clears his throat, breaking eye-contact for a split second. "Sounds impossible," he replies. He's no stranger to mythical creatures, he's seen elementals before. That's not what he finds impossible.

The Vendor tilts his head to the side, lips twitching down. "What would you do with three wishes?"

"Wishes," Natsu scoffs, shaking his head at the vendor. "There's no such thing as wishes." If there were his life would be different now. He's about to turn on his heel and leave, but the light reflects off something in the corner of the stall, making the object flash brightly. His eyes narrow as he turns slowly. "What is that?" he asks, stepping towards the stall.

The Vendor frowns, following his gaze, but a large grin splits across his face once he realizes what Natsu is looking at. "Ahh," he says, flashing the boy a dark smile. "This is the Amulet of Pyralis."

Natsu glances up at him quickly. "The Amulet of Fire," he breathes, gaze darting back to the chain.

The Vendor leans forward, catching Natsu's hand in his own, tugging him forward quickly. Natsu stumbles, slamming into the edge of the vendor's stall harshly, hissing under his breath. "You know what they say about people who play with fire, don't you?" he asks, turning Natsu's hand over. He reaches for the amulet blindly, groping for it as he holds eye-contact with Natsu. The amulet is raised high into the air, dangling by it's chain. Natsu is bewitched. The Vendor's grin widens and he drops the necklace. "They get burned."

The amulet collides with Natsu's palm, sealing his fate.

* * *

**AN: Sorry this took so long :) I was busy! I don't have much to say today, so…**

**Remember to please review! They really brighten my day! All reviewers receive a preview of the next chapter before it's posted!**

**This story might be on a short pause soon, just while I work on a short fic called "The Promposal." It will only be six chapters at most!**


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